


Armistice

by thedevilchicken



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anonymous Sex, Barebacking, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hostage Situations, M/M, Manipulation, Multi, Outdoor Sex, Rough Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-17 06:32:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14827178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: Rey is a hostage of the First Order, as a condition of their temporary ceasefire with the Republic. If she leaves, Snoke has promised that they'll fire the weapon. Hux wouldn't call that a loss.By chance, Hux sees Rey with Ren; by choice, he continues to watch. While he grudgingly prepares Starkiller Base for further peace negotiations for which he has no enthusiasm, their inappropriate relations drive him to impropriety himself.Or: Hux watches, until watching is not enough.





	Armistice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kereia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kereia/gifts).



For a long time, Hux was content to watch. 

He supposes that he should have felt a certain level of guilt for his numerous trespasses, but he found it difficult to muster the requisite enthusiasm for self-flagellation. The simple fact of it was, he enjoyed watching the two of them together; they certainly didn't lack a certain entertainment value, after all. They fought and they fornicated and they didn't seem to comprehend that their ridiculous antics did not pass by entirely unnoticed. Either that or they just didn't find it prudent to care. It was very difficult to say which it was with any certainty.

Hux recalls the first time he saw them together - saw them like that, that is. They were in the command centre on Starkiller Base, in the private training room of the Knights of Ren, and Hux couldn't say he had a particularly persuasive reason to be passing that way instead of any other, but there he was despite that. He could see them on the monitor at the security station by the door, when he logged into it to see if they were present; he could tell by their level of dishevelment that they'd been training together, as they usually did for at least an hour daily, but then Rey used the Force to push Ren to the ground. Ren laughed. Hux's brows rose. He couldn't recall ever having heard Ren laugh before.

On the small screen by the door, he watched Rey stride over to where Ren was lying, one hand stretched out to hold him down with the Force. He watched her go down on her knees astride his thighs and then unbuckle Ren's belt, and he knew he should turn off the monitor, turn, and walk away. He knew he should return to his duties, but he didn't. He stood there in the corridor, watching what they did, his eyes like saucers as she yanked Ren's trousers down to the middle of his thighs, stroked him quickly till his cock was hard, then ducked her head to lick the side of him right from base to tip. 

Hux's cheeks flushed hot. Hux's pulse began to quicken. He leaned there, one leather-gloved hand pressed to the metal plates of the wall as he bit down on the other. Rey stood to slide her trousers down over her hips to gather at her boot tops and then she knelt again, and she stroked Ren again, quickly, purposefully, and Hux watched her rub the head of his cock between her parted thighs. He watched her push down, taking him inside her. He watched her back arch and her hips shift, rocking against him, hard and fast. Ren's hands went to her hips and she slapped them away so he spread his arms out wide to either side, hands pressed to the floor, and she rode him, rubbing her own clit with her fingertips, with the toes of her boots braced against the training room floor. She clearly knew what she wanted. She clearly knew what she was doing. It was clear that this wasn't the first time.

When Ren came, Hux came, in ridiculous spasms as he bit down harder at his glove. He hadn't even touched himself. His clothes were all still very much in place. He was a wet, sticky mess as he walked away, disconcerted and perhaps just a touch ashamed. 

And when he looked down at his glove, there were still teeth marks in the leather. 

\---

In theory, at the time, Rey was meant to be their hostage: Supreme Leader Snoke was happy then, at least for the time being, to cease hostilities against the New Republic in exchange for custody of her. At the time, Hux was baffled as to why that was. At first glance, she seemed quite ordinary. She was a nobody from a nowhere planet, hardly worth suspending all their many goals for, especially given how close they were to total victory. 

In practice, Rey bore little resemblance to a hostage: she had the freedom of the command centre, of the base in its entirety if she particularly wanted it, could poke her nose into any nook or cranny that she so desired, could quite easily commandeer a ship and speed away into the depths of space if she felt the need. Of course, the threat hung over her that if she left, they would fire the weapon, and the first the Republic would know of it would be the untimely demise of one whole Republic planet. Hux had decided, not long after her arrival, that he'd make her watch it happen.

Of course, after spotting them in the training room for the first time, it seemed _watching_ was very much at the forefront of Hux's mind. 

Rey was, in theory, a hostage. The one slight issue with that theory was that she was seemingly always underfoot wherever Hux went, and that made the general undertaking of his daily duties quite the daily frustration. The Supreme Leader tasked him with preparations for the upcoming treaty negotiations with the New Republic delegation and, although Hux could only view the idea of _negotiations_ with complete disdain, he intended to perform the task to the very best of his ability. The unfortunate fact was that Rey's presence had thus far been nothing less than a perpetual irritation. More unfortunate still was the fact that Rey's presence, following what Hux had seen in the training room, quickly became a different kind of distraction.

The morning after, following a rather fitful night's sleep, Hux told himself he would put the situation entirely out of his mind; after all, he hadn't come so far and risen so high within the First Order, utterly surpassing all of his father's ridiculous expectations, only to have his excellent record blemished by that infuriating Jedi girl. He took his usual tour of the weapon facility after a brief shower and a quick shave and a rather frugal breakfast, then started on his way to his office. He realised, as he walked, hands tucked in neatly at the small of his back, that he was rubbing the teeth marks in his damaged glove with his opposite thumb. He realised, as he walked, that he'd taken the more scenic route as if entirely by accident. That route would take him past the training room again. 

He should have turned around, but he stubbornly maintained his course - he'd be damned if one solitary chance encounter and a subsequent lapse in his otherwise sound judgement would send him scampering away like some kind of scolded child. He was perfectly in command of his faculties, he told himself, and he would not be compelled to pause at the panel by the training room door. He could walk by with his back straight and his chin high and ignore what might be happening inside, just a few feet away. He wasn't interested, he told himself. That was, of course, a barefaced lie. 

He stopped at the panel by the door and he keyed in his access code with irritated jabs of one gloved forefinger. He brought up the live security feed from inside the room, clenching his jaw and scowling at it. He told himself he wasn't interested in what they might be doing in there, but he narrowed his eyes at the screen despite that. Rey slammed Ren up against the closest available wall, using the Force but also clearly her hands; Ren was bigger than her, taller and broader and heavier, and he should have had the advantage, but it was perfectly clear to see that that wasn't the case, at least not until she wanted it to be. She curled her fingers into the front of his shirt and she turned him, leaned back against the wall herself, and the way she raised her brows at him said they both knew exactly what came next. 

Ren went down on his knees in front of her. Ren hooked his fingers into the waist of her trousers and he pulled them down over her hips and her thighs. Hux watched him trail his fingers down over her belly, and over her sex. He watched Ren ease one of her legs over his shoulder; he watched him bury his face between her thighs, his mouth on her as he pushed his first two fingers up inside her, right up to the knuckles. Rey tangled her fingers into Ren's long hair and she rested her head back against the wall, eyes closed. She held him there against her, rocking her hips against him lightly, though Hux couldn't say it looked like he had any intention towards attempting escape. 

Hux watched as Ren eased his cock from his trousers. Hux watched him stroke as he knelt there, slowly at first and then harder, as he fucked her with his fingers, as he licked her cunt. Hux leaned against the wall by the screen against one gloved hand. Hux pushed the palm of his other hand down over the crotch of his trousers. He was hard, extremely hard, almost embarrassingly so, and he pushed against his palm as he stood there in the corridor, but not for long because when Ren came, he came. And, before anyone could turn the corner and chance upon him there, before either of the occupants of the training room could rearrange their clothes and find him there, he strode away to his quarters to change. He paid no attention to the hot blush in his cheeks at all. 

By the time he finally reached his office, wearing a clean set of clothes without conspicuous damp patches in inconvenient areas, Rey was already there; she was sitting cross-legged on the top of his desk, boots and all, looking over his holo representation of Starkiller Base. It was the version with all of its structures and features mapped out and clearly labelled, that he'd left there from the previous day - he had a venue to choose, after all, since the control centre and its surrounding complex really wouldn't do for the dreaded New Republic negotiations. She glanced up just for an instant as he walked into the room, and then gestured at the holo. 

"You should schedule them to land at the edge of the parade grounds," she said, pointing them out, though Hux was acutely aware of where the parade grounds outside the control centre lay on his three-dimensional map of the base. He wasn't an idiot, after all, for all she treated him that way on an unsurprisingly regular basis. "Then perhaps somewhere remote for the talks." 

"Oh?" he asked, somehow managing to sound only faintly disdainful. The Supreme Leader had instructed all personnel to make their guest feel welcome in the hours before her initial arrival there, and Hux had chosen to interpret that as reining in his general hostility to a marginally more subtle level.

She looked at him sharply. "The more difficult it is for either side to storm out, the better for everyone," she said, then she hopped down from his desk, landing uncomfortably close to him.

"Why should I listen to you?" he asked.

She raised her brows. She took a step even closer. He stood his ground, though colour began to creep back up into his cheeks.

"Because if the talks succeed, I get to leave," she said. 

"And go home to Jakku?" He shook his head. "I don't know what you see in that godforsaken sandpit."

"And go anywhere I want to," she replied, then she stepped past him, toward the door, and he stoically didn't turn to look at her. Not even when her footsteps paused. He leaned down against the edge of his desk instead, trying not to see her pushed up against the nearest wall with Ren's mouth between her thighs, or maybe even his own.

"Sometimes I think you're literally the only one who wants to be here, General," she said. And _then_ , she walked away. 

The truly irritating part of that was, he knew she was probably right - about the base and about the venue, too. But he was hardly going to give her the satisfaction of him saying so.

\---

Over the following few days, he visited various sites around the base. If he was going to deal with operations so very far beneath his dignity, and so very wasteful of his capabilities, he supposed the least he could do was do it well. 

He crossed the facilities closest to the weapon from the list before leaving the control centre, on clear security grounds. One in the heart of the forest soon followed, after a stormtrooper took too shallow a turn with his speeder bike and crashed headlong into a tree, with a shower of splinters and a jarring shriek. The facility on the snowy plains might have been ideal under any other circumstances, except that he could see that it was too accessible by far - the Republic would demand they fashion a runway nearby and that was simply not that plan at all. He would not be dictated to by the New Republic. He straightforwardly refused.

That left an old officers' retreat built into the side of a mountain; it would need work to make it fit the brief, that much was evident, but once he and his escort had arrived and briefly surveyed the facilities, Hux knew they had their venue. It was large enough to house the delegates in a manner that would fit their station, but not so large as to be completely indefensible should the worst arise. It was sheltered enough that the casual observer would find its location exceedingly difficult to pinpoint, but with spectacular views spanning the valley below. It was secluded enough and in rough enough terrain that landing a ship in the vicinity would be a genuine impossibility, but entry by speeder would only require time and not particular skill. He couldn't call it perfect, but it did meet the general specifications.

He had seven weeks to prepare it before the negotiations were scheduled to begin. Those preparations were slow, and dull, and incredibly frustrating, due at least in part to his opposite number chosen to oversee plans preparations from the New Republic side of the arrangement. Poe Dameron was an imbecile, as far as Hux had been able to tell even before their little joint endeavour, and he did not improve upon further acquaintance - in fact, Hux suspected that the only reason Dameron was in any way tolerable to him was that he had been told to ensure he didn't singlehandedly void all possibility of treaty negotiations taking place between their two organisations. Even if, Hux also suspected, Dameron saw just as little merit in the prospect of negotiations as he did himself. He supposed they could see eye to eye on that one point, at least, and the smallest of mercies was that Dameron wouldn't arrive until the rest of the delegation did; all of their interaction was via commlink. 

Hux's days were busy if tedious. He had precious little time to inspect the weapon station in his usual daily manner, let alone meander past the training room as if that were entirely coincidence, and so he quickly came to a decision: he had cameras installed in every location he could think of, so that he could watch them both at any second of the day or night of his choosing. He spent an hour every evening before bed watching the footage fly by at several times its normal speed so that he could seek out any times they were together - sometimes it was fleeting and innocuous, just a flippant exchange as they passed in a hall, but then sometimes he caught them, in the armoury or perhaps an abandoned corridor, or in their training room as usual. Sometimes, he watched them fight before they fucked. Sometimes, he skipped straight to the meat of it, hating all the while that he'd come to this. With his cock stiff in his hand and them writhing on the screen, it was difficult to persuade himself that the goal he'd had in mind was security.

He'd find them in the corridors or the armoury or the training room. Or, at night, he'd find them together in Ren's room or in Rey's; those times, he wondered what would happen if he left his room and knocked on the door of theirs. Or, he'd find one or both of them lying naked in bed, a hand under the sheets or the sheets thrown back; those times, he did the same thing himself. He stroked himself in time. They came together.

It proceeded in that manner for a full week, and then a second after. He barely saw Ren in person in that time, just the occasional irritated sweep down corridors in his melodramatic cloak and sometimes also his ridiculous black mask, and honestly Hux understood Ren's apparent frustrations: it wasn't as if Kylo Ren was made for peace treaties and ceasefires and shrugging off the ideals of the First Order any more than he was himself, when it came down to it, though he suspected they would have both acknowledged that their approaches to those ideals differed quite considerably. Hux had never entirely understood the advantage of having such a volatile individual so very high up in their hierarchy, just as he had never understood how Ren allowed himself to remain so volatile in the first place; after all, it was hardly the case that Hux lacked emotions, just that he had learned long ago that the frequent demonstration of them usually failed to engender faith or trust or loyalty in their subordinates. He marshaled himself in a way that Ren had frustratingly never even tried to.

It continued that way for one full week and then a second besides, Hux watching them together on a screen or projecting them via holo in his quarters after dark. Perhaps he barely saw Ren in person but he did see Rey quite frequently; her incursions into his space whenever he was present in the control centre did not cease or even slow particularly. She would sit on the floor and lounge against walls so that he had to step over her legs to pass by, or she'd practice her handstands in the middle of the bustling control room so that he'd have to go the long way round. She'd follow him down corridors with her steps infuriatingly just a fraction out of time with his, or she'd perch on the edge of his desk and swing her legs as he tried to work. More than once, she sidetracked his conversations with Dameron to chat about this or that or nothing at all until Hux felt that the grim satisfaction of putting a blaster bolt through her skull might actually have been worth provoking the Supreme Leader's ire. Needless to say, he did no such thing. He may have despised her and wished her locked up in a cell, but he could think of several reasons to keep her alive - at least for the time being. 

It continued that way for two full weeks and then a third, with Hux finding himself increasingly frustrated by proceedings. He watched Rey push Ren down against her bed, still fully clothed, and rub herself against him. He watched her pull him up against a wall and wrap her legs around his waist, watched her pull his hair and bite his neck as he pushed his cock inside her. He watched her ride him with his ridiculous mask still covering his face, watched her push his head down between her thighs, watched her pull him into the shower when their daily training was complete and catalogue the bruises that they'd littered on each other's skin. Hux watched them and he stroked himself, angered that he couldn't stop.

One night, he watched her strip Ren bare and push him down onto his hands and knees. He watched her fuck him with slick fingers, and then she strapped something between her thighs and fucked him with that, too. Hux watched, wide-eyed, as Ren pushed back against her, his hole stretched tight, taking it in deep. He watched as Ren stroked himself till she replaced his hand with her own instead, the movements of it long and tight and slow. Hux couldn't help but wonder if Ren might enjoy his cock in him as much as he seemed to enjoy the thing that Rey was doing, though the unbidden speculation made him frown. 

And, when Ren came, Hux came; he wondered who he found himself most jealous of: him or her. 

He fell asleep thinking perhaps it was both. It should, of course, have been neither.

\---

For a long time, Hux was content to watch. But then, suddenly, jarringly, with terrifying immediacy, watching wasn't nearly enough. 

He supposed it was sudden, at least, because he hadn't felt the gradual onset - one day he'd been content to watch the two of them and the next, stepping into the fourth week, watching barely satisfied at all. One day he'd stroked himself with at least moderate contentment as he watched Rey ride Ren's cock, and the next he'd wanted that himself, her above him, him below him. And so, he determined that he would put the whole sad and sordid business out of his mind entirely. That was, of course, much easier to say than it was to do.

On the first day, he snapped at a group of unruly stormtroopers marching out of formation, which he told himself was a perfectly legitimate complaint for him to make - the discipline of the First Order was intended to be practiced and not merely theoretical, a point about which he felt quite strongly. There was no order to the First Order without discipline, after all. He would return to leading by example.

On the second day, he snapped at Dameron over the commlink, though that was hardly a new development - Dameron just laughed and brushed it off, which made the whole debacle that much worse. He finished by hurling a datapad across the room, which rebounded from the transparisteel window and would have struck him in forehead but for hasty ducking. He suspected that Dameron would have found that an even more amusing development. 

On the third day, he snapped at Ren in a corridor not far from the training room, which he told himself was perfectly understandable, all things considered - Hux knew where the hot-headed incompetent was coming from at that precise moment, with his hair out of place and a smirk on his insufferable face, and he reeked of all the sex that Hux was glaringly not having. Hux scowled as Ren nudged him out of his way with his elbow. Hux cursed at him, not particularly quiet about it, and Ren turned, abruptly, and he pushed him up hard against the nearest wall with one hand gripping tight at each of his shoulders. 

Neither one of them said anything further; Ren just moved one hand to press at Hux's throat and Hux sneered straight back at him, despite the heat rising in his cheeks and his very clear difficulty in breathing. Ren's hands were unexpectedly bare - his palm and his long fingers were hot against Hux's skin as they stood there together, tense, locked in each other's unerring gaze, and Hux could feel his mind flooded with entirely unbidden thoughts, graphic and immediate. He could see Ren on his knees there in the corridor, taking his flushed cock into his mouth. He could see himself shoved up face first against the wall, cheek and hands pressed to it, Ren's cock spreading him open. And then, Ren turned and strode away. 

Later that night, in his quarters with the door firmly locked behind, Hux did not let himself think about that. The cold shower helped him in that goal at least somewhat. 

On the fourth day, he held his tongue as he talked with the Supreme Leader, but his success in that was only by a hair's breadth - he knew precisely how well it would not have gone for him to speak so out of turn, so he decided then was as good a time as any for an impromptu off-site visit. He was on his way out to the negotiation venue, wrapped up warm on a speeder bike in place of his usual chauffeured landspeeder just to find a little solitary peace, when he saw Rey slipping out from the control centre and away into the forest. 

He supposed he ought not to have been so curious about it, as the Supreme Leader trusted her at least to some extent and that should have been the only fact that mattered to him, but he was so very curious that he couldn't let it be. He turned his speeder around and he followed hers. He followed, ducking between trees, till she reached a snowy clearing and she stopped and dismounted and she turned, shrugged the cloak from her shoulders and lit up her lightsaber in a blaze of red in front of him. He brought his speeder to a halt, not particularly put out that he'd been caught. She eyed him. He dismounted, too. 

"You shouldn't be out here alone," he said, but the helmet he was wearing against the snow that routinely whipped his face muffled his voice down into very nearly nothing. He reached up underneath the helmet's chin and for a moment he considered removing it completely, but then he toggled the speaker switch and depressed the button for tone distortion. He supposed his upcoming afternoon of unfortunate helmet hair had to at least be worth something; perhaps she wouldn't realise who it was that had followed her, if he affected a Corellian accent and used the helmet's inbuilt technology to disguise his voice. 

"You shouldn't be out here alone," he said again. That time, she evidently heard him loud and clear, because she raised her brows, dropped out of her ready stand and put one hand on her hip. 

"I wouldn't exactly say I'm alone," she replied, and she gestured at him with her bright red sword. It wasn't actually hers, of course; the Supreme Leader had given it to her to replace the blue one that he'd taken away when she'd first arrived, as if the colour could change her or corrupt her in and of itself. She carried it everywhere, usually clipped to the belt at her waist, and though Hux could firmly see no reason why she should be permitted to, he was a soldier who would not disregard his orders.

He tilted his head to concede the point - she was not alone, no, that was true - but then he swept back his cloak to rest behind the blaster at his hip. 

"No, you're not alone," he said. "But I wouldn't exactly say you're safe." 

"Is that a threat?" she asked.

"I know better than to threaten you."

"Then you think you can intimidate me." 

"I think it would take more than a pistol in its holster." 

"Then what is it, if it's not a threat and not intimidation?" she asked. She raised her brows. "Is this supposed to turn me on?"

He paused for a second, taken off guard by the seemingly bizarre suggestion. Then he inclined his head and asked her, "Does it?"

"Is that you, Ren?"

He snorted, amused, which did not sound particularly flattering through the helmet's unsubtle brand of vocoder, though he supposed the idea made a certain kind of sense - in his generic trooper helmet and his cold weather gear, from several feet away through the falling snow, he could almost have looked Ren's height and build even though he wasn't. Then she reached out with her free hand, the one that wasn't currently gripping the hilt of a lightsaber, her fingers splayed and her eyes on him. He could feel her, teasing at the edges of his mind, sweeping his emotions.

"Not Ren," she said. 

"Not Ren," he confirmed. 

"Just as angry, though." 

"I wouldn't say that." 

She arched her brows again. "I would," she said, and then she closed her eyes, her arm straining out toward him so hard that her hand shook with it. "You're angry. And you're desperate. And you're going to do something you'll regret." 

"I am?"

She opened her eyes. She smiled faintly. "Yes," she said. "Come here." 

"And if I say no?" he asked. 

She closed her open hand into a fist; the Force closed at his throat and she lifted him by it and she turned and walked away, but she dragged him with her; the toes of his boots left long tracks in the snow behind him. She stood by her own speeder bike and she dragged him in then dropped him just a few feet away - he stayed on his feet somehow and didn't fall onto his knees as he took a breath. Then she turned away from him and she leaned down, bracing herself with both hands on the saddle of her speeder. 

"What are you doing?" he asked, wide-eyed inside his helmet. 

She glanced back over her shoulder. "Isn't that obvious?" she replied, then she hooked her thumbs into the waist of her trousers and she pulled them straight down to her knees. She shuffled her feet out wider in the snow. She leaned down lower, exposing herself, and Hux could feel himself respond to that, very much in spite of all his better judgement. 

"I suppose it is," he said. 

"So, are you just going to stand there?"

"What if I said yes?"

"Then I'd call you a liar." 

It turned out, of course, that she was absolutely right. He knew he should have walked away, returned to his own speeder and either turned back the way he'd come or continued out to the negotiation venue to view the work that had been done thus far. There were plans to check and details to examine and he could have spent the whole day there, ignoring calls from Dameron, and very much ignoring Rey and Ren. But he stepped in close as his pulse began to quicken and he ran his gloved hands over her clothed back, over her bare hips, over the back of her spread thighs. He ran the tip of one gloved finger down between her legs, teasing at the line at which her lips were just ever so slightly parted. She shifted a fraction. He could see she was already wet. She'd probably expected Ren, he thought. That thought shouldn't have excited him.

He should have left. It would have been much more convenient for all concerned, because then he wouldn't have been teasing her open with one gloved forefinger while his cock began to stiffen inside his trousers, the same gloves that had his teeth marks still bitten deep into the leather from that first time he'd seen them together. He wouldn't have been teasing that gloved finger up inside her, making her back arch and her hips shift and her hands grip tighter at the speeder's saddle as she took an unsteady breath. He should have been anywhere but there: in his office, making his usual inspection of the weapon, conferring with Phasma, _anywhere_ but where he was, feeling sickly thrilled by the fact that he was touching her - even with gloved hands, even if she couldn't know that it was him - after those long weeks of watching, and longer weeks of self-denial. He should have left, but he couldn't say no.

Then he pulled back his hand. He clenched his jaw and unbuckled his belt and he pushed down his trousers to mid-thigh - the chill in the air and the snowflakes against his skin made him shiver momentarily. He ran the length his cock between her legs, against her lips, nudged just the tip between them. And then, with one swift thrust, he pushed all the way inside her. 

He let out a breath that sounded harsher than expected through the vocoder in his helmet and she groaned, squeezing tight and hot around the length of him. He gripped her hips and he moved inside her and she pushed back hard against him with every move he made, their not-quite-synchronised motion making the speeder rock beneath her. It wasn't slow and it wasn't pretty and it didn't last very long at all - less than five more minutes and he lost control completely, his teeth bared and his cheeks flushed inside his helmet, a rather arrhythmic snap to his hips, then he groaned and he jerked and he came inside her, pulsing hard, knees suddenly a little weak. And when he pulled back and pulled out, thinking it was likely time to leave, he could see her cunt was wet with his come in the chilly, snowy air. So, he leaned back in and he slid two gloved fingers into her, got them slick then rubbed her clit. She pushed against his hand, fucking herself on his fingers till there was almost no need for him to move. It wasn't long at all till she came, too. 

Then she rearranged her clothes and she swept her snowy cloak back on. He tucked himself back into his trousers. She mounted her speeder. His come was probably soaking right through to the saddle in between her thighs, he thought.

She gave him a ridiculous little mock salute and then she rode away and left him there, and all that he could do was laugh and watch her go. 

She'd been right: he'd done something he very much regretted. And, what was worse, he'd never found out where she'd been going.

\---

He saw her slip out of the control centre the next day, too. He followed her again, even though he knew it was a truly dreadful idea. 

She was already waiting there in the clearing and when he arrived and once he'd come to a halt, the speeder kicking up a fine mist of snow, she took off her cloak and threw it over the saddle of her speeder. She was wearing a tunic underneath it that came down to her knees - black, because everything she'd worn since her arrival had been, on the Supreme Leader's orders, as if the colour might affect her. When she made her way to the nearest tree and leaned back against it, when she tugged up her tunic's hem and was bare underneath, he realised that aside from her boots, it was _all_ she was wearing. Considering she'd lived most of her life on a desert world, Hux found himself quite surprised she could stand the cold without wrapping up warm.

He had her there, against the tree trunk, her legs wrapped tight around his waist and her hands gripping tight at his shoulders. He had her hard and deep and a little too quickly for him to be particularly proud of, though he supposed there was nothing about the whole scenario of which he could be very proud at all, considering the fact he was fucking the Supreme Leader's irritating hostage in the middle of a frozen forest. It had made a fraction more sense when all he'd been doing was playing voyeur. The issue with that was that he didn't have grand ambitions to watch her fucking Kylo Ren, at least not any longer. 

When they were done, when he'd emptied himself inside her with a strangled kind of unflattering groan that she didn't seem to mind at all, she pushed him down to sit side-saddle on top of her cloak on her speeder; she planted one foot by his hip and took hold of his wrist and she fucked herself on his gloved fingers while she rubbed her own come-drenched clit right in front of him. He could almost have come again from that himself. And then, he left. He went back to work, to an irritating conference with Poe Dameron, trying not to think about Rey's bare, soaked cunt against the saddle of her speeder, or how she'd briefly let him him pluck stray tree bark from her hair.

He saw her slip away the next day, too, and he followed her again. She had him stretch out rather precariously on his back along the speeder, his feet pushing down to the ground to maintain some small semblance of balance, and she straddled his hips and she rode him, her hands splayed on his chest. She licked her fingers and she rubbed her clit as she did it, and for once she came before he did; she shuddered and tensed, she squeezed tight around him as he gripped at her hips, and then he came inside her, too. 

He saw her slip away the _next_ day, too, and he followed her because he knew he couldn't not. He saw her the day after that, and the day after that, every single day until he didn't care if she was pretending he was Kylo Ren, until he couldn't have stopped if he'd tried to, until the end of the fifth week of works was drawing near. 

He ran into Ren in that fifth week, in the corridor by the training room where, for once, Hux had a legitimate reason to be walking. Ren refused to make room and they collided; Hux's helmet, tucked underneath his arm, fell and bounced awkwardly on the floor, and Hux cursed at him under his breath as he stooped to retrieve it. Ren pushed him to the wall, which was more or less the expected course of action at that point, and Hux just looked at him, his gaze level and distinctly unimpressed, without another word. 

Without another word, Ren turned him, pushed him up face-first against the wall and pressed him there with one hand spread out between his shoulder blades. It was new, but Hux wouldn't permit himself to feel intimidated because that was likely exactly just what Ren wanted; he braced himself with his hands instead, though his cheek was pressed tight to the wall. He knew he hadn't quite the strength to counter Ren, not even if he didn't choose to employ the Force, so he chose not to resist - that particular course of action was also, he thought, most likely to frustrate Ren further, since everybody there on Starkiller Base knew how he liked his actions to solicit reactions. Hux would stoically not react. 

Ren sighed behind his helmet, the sound harsher thanks to its inbuilt vocoder that acted much as the unit in Hux's borrowed trooper helmet did, though that was currently still lying on the floor. Ren stepped in closer and Hux saw him from the corner of his eye: he pushed back his hood and pulled off his helmet and he dropped it to the floor with a dull metallic thud. He caught the tip of one forefinger of one leather glove between his teeth and pulled it from his hand; he dropped the glove and pressed his bare palm over Hux's mouth. Then he leaned in, pushed up against his back, and Hux felt Ren's other hand slip down from between his shoulders, over his hip, forward, down - he felt Ren's other hand, still in its glove, push between his groin and the wall in front, spreading over the front of his trousers, over his cock. Idiot that he was, he was already half hard. Ren smirked, and then he turned his head and Hux could see no more of him except his hair brushing one shoulder as he rolled his hips against him. 

Hux didn't move. Hux didn't even try to move. He spread his hands against the wall and he closed his eyes and felt the things that Ren was doing, the warm hand pressed down over his mouth, the palm against his clothed but stiffening cock, Ren's own clothed erection grinding tight against Hux's clothed backside. He could feel the waves of Ren's emotions washing over him because Ren made no attempt at all to rein them in - he felt his frustration and his anger, his rather twisted, dark desire, and Hux pushed back against that with his own. He might not have had access to the Force the way that Ren did, or Rey did, but he knew that Ren could feel it when he allowed his own strange mix of lust and hate to burn through coldly. It took a conscious effort for him to lower his guard but it was worth it, he thought. He knew those emotions were of no practical use to him, except maybe as a weapon. 

Ren felt it immediately. Ren took a sharp breath against Hux's neck. The pads of his fingers and thumb pressed hard at Hux's cheekbones. His other hand squeezed down between Hux's thighs and he groaned against his shoulder as he jerked and tensed and came, still in his clothes, pushed up tight to Hux's arse. He pulled back before Hux could finish, swept his helmet and discarded glove up from the floor and strode away, leaving him there. Hux took his own helmet and returned to his quarters. He finished himself in the shower, still somewhat disconcerted by it all.

He rain into Ren again three days later, in the sixth week of works, as he was returning from a visit to the treaty venue. They weren't alone in the corridor but Ren solved that quite effectively by pushing away all the troopers and officers alike with a wave of the Force till they picked themselves up and scattered, and Hux arched his eyebrows at him, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the wall. There were a hundred antagonistic witticisms dancing on the tip of his tongue but he bit them back as he watched Ren push back his hood and remove his helmet, as he watched him remove both gloves and drop all three items to the floor. He licked his lips instead, before Ren turned him, roughly, with another quick twist of the Force. 

Hux didn't struggle, partially because he knew there was no use to that, and partially because he knew he didn't object. He might have objected to the indignity of it, had he felt any sense if indignity - as it was, Ren was the one who was out of control and Hux was intrigued to see in which direction he might take it. So, he didn't object as Ren pressed his palm to his mouth, though there were still the faintest hints of bruises at his cheekbones from the last time. He didn't object as Ren pushed up against him, or as he pushed his free hand down against his groin. He didn't object as Ren pushed his hips against him, or as he moved his hand, pushed it down under the waist of his trousers and wrapped his bare fingers around his bare cock. Ren stroked him, tight jerks inside the confines of his formerly well-pressed trousers, and Hux groaned against the hand over his mouth. Ren ground his hips against him, ground his erection up against his clothed arse, and he came there, seconds later, groaning against Hux's shoulder. He expected him to leave immediately, but he didn't. He stroked Hux till he came, and _then_ he left. 

Two days after that, he ran into him again, on his way to his office from a briefing with Phasma, a discussion of security arrangements for the upcoming negotiations. Ren dragged him into the training room and shoved him up against the back of the doors and Hux let him, standing there as Ren pulled off his helmet and gloves, as Ren's hands went to Hux's belt and shoved his trousers down around his knees, as he stepped in behind him and felt bare skin against bare skin. He felt Ren's stiff cock against the crack of his arse. He felt Ren's fingers, slick with something thick and cold, press between his cheeks, against his hole. His face flushed hot. Ren honestly didn't need to be broadcasting his intentions the way he was for Hux to know what he intended to do next.

Ren pressed the blunt head of his cock to Hux's hole. Ren pushed forward, pushed in, inch by breathless inch. Hux felt it as if in every fibre of him, the slow stretch as Ren's cock penetrated him, his own hands pressing to the door, Ren's gripping at his bare hips. He'd wanted it, in the back of his mind, almost guiltily, thought about it as he touched himself even as he tried to maintain that that wasn't the case. He'd remembered how it had felt, those few fumbling times back at the academy, and applied it to the fantasies he told himself he didn't have, but then there they were - Ren moved in him, slowly, filling him up, making his nerves jangle and his muscles tense, rocking up onto his tiptoes with every slow, deep thrust.

Then Ren's hand went around Hux's cock and forty second later, he groaned and twitched, pulled tight around Ren's length inside him and came in bursts over the back of the training room door, just as embarrassingly responsive to that kind of thing as he'd always been. Ren didn't seem to mind, judging by the way he muffled his mouth against Hux's shoulder as he came in him just a few seconds after him. 

Ren's breath was almost as harsh and quick as Hux's. He rested his forehead down between Hux's shoulder blades, his hands at Hux's hips, still inside him for a moment till he pulled back, slowly, and Hux turned and leaned back against the doors. Ren was still half hard, the hem of his tunic grazing the base of his cock, his trousers gathered at the top of his boots, dishevelled. He raked his hair back with both hands and held it there behind his head for a moment, looking at Hux, examining him. Hux knew how he must look, his usually pristine clothes crumpled and out of place, pale skin flushed pink, his hair unsettled, his cock hanging soft and bare and spent, but he utterly failed to care at all. At least no more than Ren seemed to. And there was a moment then, in which Hux almost thought Ren wanted something else, or something more, but Ren looked away again. They dressed. They went their separate ways.

Four days later, he ran into Ren again, on his way back from his illicit daily rendez-vous with Rey. Those hadn't ceased, nor did he expect that her daily assignations in the training room with Ren had, either - sometimes, he thought he could smell her on him, or him on her, though he supposed there was a possibility he'd just imagined that. 

He ran into Ren and it didn't seem to be by accident. Ren was pacing in the corridor by the training room door as Hux came by on his way from the hangar to his quarters, not the shortest route but often the quickest by virtue of the fact that most of the traffic avoided the Knights of Ren. Hux understood it would have been best for him to do the same but he refused to be made less by them, by Kylo Ren particularly, except inevitably there Ren was. He stopped pacing when he saw Hux. Hux stopped a few paces away. He tilted up his chin just a fraction, almost challenging, and dropped his helmet haphazardly to the floor to put his hands to his hips. 

"What do you want?" Hux asked. He knew it was a terrible idea to speak but he was still flushed with the fact of his liaison in the woods with Rey, the snow melting on their hot skin, shivering together as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He could almost still feel her moving with him, the heat of her, the grip of her hands at his arms. That first heady blush of his anonymity with her had never quite worn off. 

"I want you to stop talking," Ren replied, testily. 

"And if I don't?" Hux asked. "I'm not your subordinate. I don't take orders from you."

"Then you think you're my equal?"

Hux huffed out a breath. He shifted his weight, one foot to the other, his hands still at his hips. 

"What do you _want_ , Ren?" he asked again. "I have a very busy schedule. One that does not take into account vague conversations in deserted corridors." 

Ren's hands flexed into fists for a moment, and then back out again. "Turn around," he said. "Face the wall."

Hux sneered. He shook his head. "No," he said, but he did in fact lean back against the wall instead, and rested the back of his head against it. 

He half expected Ren to turn and walk away. He half expected Ren to lift one hand and apply the Force like a vice to his throat. Neither outcome would have been remotely unexpected, but what he did was stride forward and lean there, inches from him, one hand pressed to the wall either side of Hux's shoulders. What he did was look at him, hotly, intently, and then drop down onto his knees, sitting on his heels, the toes of his boots curled under. Hux felt his brows rise entirely of their own volition. 

"What are you doing?" he asked, at least mildly bewildered, as Ren pulled off his gloves, set them aside, and began to unbuckle Hux's belt. 

Ren just glanced up at him for the briefest of moments and then continued what he was doing, and Hux let him, at least as intrigued as he was confused, until Ren tugged down his trousers, swept his jacket out of the way and took Hux's cock in his hand. Ren glanced up just for a second and then let his tongue dart out against the tip and Hux shivered, shocked, as he watched him do it. He watched Ren stroke him till his cock responded, hardening, thickening, and then Ren eased back his foreskin, thumbed the moisture from the tip and then sucked it off his thumb as he looked up at Hux. Hux felt his eyes go wide and Ren smirked up at him, just for a second, before he took him in his mouth. He wondered if he tasted like her. 

Ren sucked him. Ren spread his knees and he rubbed himself over the fabric of his trousers and he sucked in, two fingers of his free hand wrapped around the inches that he couldn't take. And Hux leaned there, looking down at him, startled and faintly aghast, feeling his own ridiculous reactions, how his pulse raced, how his breath quickened, how he dug his nails into his palms to keep from threading his fingers into Ren's long hair. 

When he came with a muffled, awkward shout, Ren swallowed around him. Ren leaned back a little, mouthing at the softening head, dipping the tip of his tongue at the tip of Hux's cock, till he let him go and sat back on his heels. He wiped his mouth on the cuff of one sleeve as he looked up at him, dark-eyed, then raked back his hair from his flushed face. Then he opened the front of his trousers and he eased out his own cock and Hux watched as he stroked himself, still there on his knees on the floor in front of him. He could see the way the muscles in his neck strained as he came, clenching his jaw, baring his teeth. Then Ren quickly tucked himself back in and rocked back, pushing up to his feet. 

" _That's_ what I wanted," Ren said then, with a moment's grim, sarcastic smile before he turned to walk away. And what he'd said was very much like a slap to Hux's face. 

He honestly wasn't sure what was better: Rey not knowing who he was, or Ren knowing and wanting it anyway.

\---

The day finally came. He remembers it as a bitter disappointment, after the long weeks of preparations.

The New Republic delegation arrived in a swirling gust of snow kicked up from the designated landing zone, and their transports and more well-armed escorts touched down one by one. Hux was there to greet them, with Captain Phasma stationed just off his right shoulder and a squad of troopers in at attention there behind her. He stood by with his hands tucked in behind his back and his uniform not a single fraction out of place. Perhaps he still resented his assignment, but he'd found he could resent it and still intend to follow through to the best of his abilities. Now, afterwards, he can see how there was merit in that. He has always followed orders.

General Organa and Senator Vicly led the Republic delegation, with their aides and advisors forming quite the entourage; as they exited their ships, Hux glanced back to where Ren and Rey were standing, side by side behind the troopers. He knew who Leia Organa was to Ren, of course, and had a vague awareness of what she might have meant to Rey had the Senate not persuaded her to give herself up for the sake of peace - General Organa had opposed that notion vocally, not that it had mattered in the end. And, lurking behind was Poe Dameron, with a cocksure, gung-ho smile that grated on Hux's nerves even at a distance. Dameron gave him a little mock salute and Hux recalls how he worked to keep from scowling in response, as he shook General Organa's hand and introduced himself. She didn't seem impressed. Frankly, neither was he.

The negotiations lasted twelve full, excruciating days. Hux watched from the sidelines while the Supreme Leader argued his points with the Republic's delegates, sitting at the dark edge of the hall, sometimes alone, and sometimes Ren swept in and took the seat beside him. He could see General Organa's gaze straying in her son's direction every now and then, and Ren's grip tightened dangerously at the arms of his chair in response. More than once, Hux stood and turned and motioned for Ren to follow and they left the room together, Ren in his long, sweeping black cloak walking behind like Hux's particularly sullen shadow. Hux led him away, around the facility's labyrinthine corridors, to his own temporary quarters. Sometimes they would wait for Rey. Sometimes they started without her. Sometimes, she liked that.

Proceedings inside the hall did not surprise them. The Supreme Leader's core demands were exactly what they had expected in every particular, which Hux knew because Rey had told him. Four months have passed now since the treaty was signed, and he still recalls the day she told him what was being planned, just forty-eight hours before negotiations had begun. 

They had been in the woods that day, as they were every day. He'd followed her there, as he had every day. 

"So, do you have sex with strange men in the woods on a regular basis?" he asked her, conversationally, as he dismounted his speeder. 

He made his way closer, the snow crunching lightly beneath his boots, as she looked at him. She was sitting sideways on her own speeder, her bare legs crossed at the knee. More than once, he'd thought about straddling it behind her, one arm around her waist and one down between her thighs for her to press against as she kicked the engine into gear and drove. He knew, however, that that was not going to happen. Someone might have seen.

"Well, you're definitely strange," she replied. "But I wouldn't say you're a stranger." 

"Oh?"

She tilted her head, her gaze still on him. "Do you really think I don't know who you are?" she asked. 

He crossed his arms over his chest and he didn't respond, perhaps projecting confidence he didn't particularly feel. As she crossed her own arms, mirroring him, he definitely did not feel it. 

"I know who you are," she said. " _General._ "

His stomach clenched. He scowled inside his helmet. His hands balled into fists under his arms. 

"Didn't you wonder why I kept coming out here?"

"I thought you were planning something." 

"Yes, it was a very sophisticated plan," she replied, wryly. "I was trying to get your attention." 

She waved one hand and his helmet drifted up into the air, then she dropped it to the ground, into a nearby drift of snow. He was still scowling, his face chilling quickly, as she pulled him toward her with the Force, though not with it clamped around his throat as both she and Ren usually did - he assumed that she'd learned that from Ren, amongst other things. She stood. She looked him in the eye. 

"We've known from the start, General," she said. "We knew you were watching. I thought you might need a nudge in the right direction." 

She ran one hand over his chest, up to the back of his neck. She twisted her fingers into the back of his neat hair. He should have been incensed, he supposed, that she'd lied to him, at least by omission, but he found somehow that he wasn't. He might have been embarrassed that his secrets had been less than secretive to her, to _them_ , but he wasn't. He should have walked away. He should have left her there, but he didn't. When she sat back down on her speeder, he let her drag him down to his knees in front of her. 

He paused for a moment, then he pulled off his gloves and set them down on the saddle by her hip. She watched him as he hesitated, before he rested his bare hands on her thighs, over her tunic. She'd known all along that it was him behind the helmet and she'd let him do all of those things to her anyway. She'd let him believe she didn't know and he'd done those things without a shred of hesitation, without restraint, without self-consciousness. He ran his hands down, caught the hem of her tunic and slipped them underneath. He gathered the fabric at her waist, nudged her knees apart, bared her cunt in front of him. He watched her bite at her bottom lip as he ran the pad of one thumb between her thighs, where her labia met. He watched her hands grip at the saddle either side of her hips as he rubbed a few slow circles at her clitoris.

She moved then. She stood and she stepped by him and she threw her cloak down on the ground, spread it out and stood there by it as he turned to watch her. She pulled her tunic up, caught it by the hem and tugged if off over her head, leaving herself bare in the chilly, snowy air but for her ankle boots. She settled on the cloak. She sat then she stretched out on her back and spread her legs and raised her brows at him meaningfully so he moved closer, he crawled, hands and knees, snow stinging against his palms and his cheeks flushing hot, till he was kneeling there on the cloak between her thighs. He ran his hands over her, wet from the snow, over her bare calves, her thighs, her waist, her breasts, raising gooseflesh, her nipples stiffening to peaks. He couldn't say he liked her any more or less then than he had when they'd first met, he can't say he liked her any more or less then than he does now, but he was painfully hard inside his trousers and he wasn't sure he would have had the self-discipline to keep himself from fucking her if the Supreme Leader himself had order him not to.

She propped herself up on her forearms to watch as he fumbled at his belt and pushed his trousers down over his hips. She watched as he eased out his flushed, hard cock into the chilly air and stroked himself, slowly. Then he leaned in. He leaned over her. Her eyes were on him - on _him_ , not the visor of an anonymous white helmet - as he rubbed himself between her thighs, as he shifted his hips, as he slowly pushed inside her. She took a sharp breath as he rocked against her, her fingers twisting in his hair, at the shirt at the small of his back. He hissed in a breath as she pulled up her knees to bracket his hips and took him in a fraction deeper. The way she blushed as he fucked her in the snow was a beautiful thing that he still remembers now, and likely will for some time to come. The way she twisted and tensed and swore in brash Huttese when he slipped his fingers to her clit and made her come was less so, but just somehow as memorable.

He came in her with a groan he didn't try to stifle. He paused there, his forehead pressed down to her collarbone to catch his breath, then he pulled back, up and out and to his knees. She was slick with his come as he ran his fingertips between her thighs, as he pushed his fingers into her, as he rubbed her clit and made her shiver. Then he pulled his hand back, wiped it off on his own cloak, and watched her sit up cross-legged to pull her tunic back on over her head. 

"What do you know about the negotiations?" she asked, unexpectedly, as he was tucking himself back in. 

"Enough," he replied, curtly, realising it was the first word he'd spoken to her in that particular locale without the helmet in place or the ridiculous pseudo-Corellian accent. In a strange way, it was refreshing. "I _have_ been making the arrangements."

"Kylo says--" she said, but he cut her off as he buckled his belt. 

"Yes, because _Kylo_ is a paragon of truth and virtue." 

She gave him a withering look. He quieted with a frown.

"Kylo says," she said again, and paused, pointedly, almost daring him to make another snide comment if the urge struck again. He shrugged instead, his palms upturned. 

"He says Snoke will demand no Republic expansion into the Unknown Regions, and that every Republic planet vote on whether they want to join the First Order." She raised her brows. "And he says Snoke will insist that I marry him." 

"Marry Snoke or marry Ren?"

"Don't be sarcastic. It doesn't suit you." He shrugged again, faintly, irritably, to concede the point. "He says it's meant to represent peace between the First Order and the New Republic or something like that. I think Snoke's planning something. I don't think that's good for any of us."

He rested his hands on his thighs as he knelt there, still on top of her cloak, and he considered that. He supposed it was a ploy of some kind, that all of this had been a ploy, that she was a kind of Republic honey trap sent to undermine the Supreme Leader's authority with his two most trusted senior commanders. He should have seen that, he thought, but the more he considered it, the less it made sense; if that was the reason she'd been sent, she should have made him trust her. She should have made him _like_ her. She should have been pleasantly insidious and not so very obnoxious that he could only admit his interest in her when he believed her ignorant of his identity. And, what was more, there was a part of him, however small, however seemingly insignificant, that had questioned the Supreme Leader's wisdom in holding her there. There was a part of him that knew Snoke had plans that were out of line with the Order's ideals. He hated to think it, but he thought it nonetheless. He couldn't deny that he'd thought it for some time.

Then he pushed back and stood, stepping back into the snow; he held out a hand to her, not entirely sure what had possessed him to do so, and she eyed it for a moment before she took it and let him help her to her feet. She swept her cloak up from the ground and back around her shoulders, knocking off the snow that was still clinging to it.

"Do you actually want to marry him?" he asked, as he attempted to straighten his clothing to his satisfaction, though it was rather damp in places.

"I don't really want to marry anyone," she replied, surprisingly candid about it, then she stepped up close and patted his cheek with one hand. "You know, I know I annoy you, and I think you know that's mostly on purpose, but I don't actually hate you." 

He raised his brows. "Are you saying you'd prefer to marry me instead?"

Her mouth twisted, roughly equal parts amused and sardonic. He sighed. He carefully patted down his uncharacteristically messy hair. 

"You're saying you want both of us," he said.

She nodded. "I'm saying I want both of you," she confirmed. "If I have to stay here, I want it to be on my own terms this time." She stepped closer. She took his hands in hers. His face scrunched into what he was sure was an unflattering picture of his disdain for that. 

"I think we can keep the peace together, you and me and Kylo," she said, looking him straight in the eye, so awfully dreadfully earnest in that moment that it took him completely by surprise. The depths of her naivete staggered him, but he couldn't help but find it at least marginally endearing. Perhaps that was the ploy, or perhaps she truly was that naive. 

She squeezed his hands. He swallowed. He raised one hand to her face, to the side of her neck, brushing the curve of her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. 

"Will you help me?" she asked. 

He nodded. "Yes, I will," he replied, and she smiled at him. She _beamed_ at him. 

He honestly isn't sure who was lying to whom. He's still not.

\---

For a long time, Hux was content to watch, until he wasn't. 

It's been four months now since the treaty was signed and the three of them - Hux and Ren and Rey - stood together in the negotiation hall and said their vows in front of the delegates who were all still gathered there. When the Supreme Leader demanded that Rey marry Ren, she countered: it was apparently so difficult to refuse her that Snoke didn't even try. Hux thinks perhaps the Supreme Leader believed then, and believes now, that he can turn her fully to his cause, given time and influence enough. Perhaps he can, in time, but she's not there yet. And, these days, Hux is not convinced that _Snoke's_ cause is _their_ cause. He hopes he's wrong, but he suspects he's not.

He still inspects the weapon every day - they did not agree to the immediate decommissioning of it as they knew the Republic had no leverage to demand it of them. She still sits on his desk or holds handstands in the most inconvenient locations she can contemplate, and she gets on his nerves because he might desire her, he might be married to her, but she is still not truly one of them. She spends three days each month with General Organa's military and another two travelling there and back, and she wipes her ship's databanks on her return so they can't know where to find them. While she's away, Hux and Ren share their bed without her, but she always comes back.

She came back again last night, while they were already sleeping, and woke them accidentally on purpose as she crawled into bed to join them. Hux recalls opening one eye and grumbling under his breath as she settled down between the two of them. Fortunately, the bed is more than large enough for that - he and Ren might have come to blows by now if not.

She came back again last night, and they slept, and not long ago, they woke. Rey threw back the sheets and pulled off her nightdress and Hux, having slept naked as he always does, was happy to follow her lead. When she went down on her knees and her forearms, her thighs spread wide, he was more than happy to settle in behind her, his hands on her warm skin. He was more than happy to stroke himself to erection, as Ren lifted his hips beside them and removed the loose trousers he seems to prefer to wear in bed. He was more than happy to rub the head of his cock against her and then shift his hips to push inside, and make her gasp. 

Ren stroked himself lazily as he watched them. Sometimes that's all he does - Ren seems to enjoy watching almost as much as Hux did, once upon a time. Sometimes he stretches out and Rey pulls back, and she straddles him instead, sometimes when Hux has already come inside her, sometimes before so he rubs his cock against her arse and they continue in that way, till Ren fills one hole and him the other. Sometimes, Ren moves, and he slicks his fingers and he slicks his cock and he fucks Hux as he's fucking her, or else the other way around. 

This morning, Ren shifted, and the next thing Hux knew he could feel Ren's tongue against Rey's cunt, and against his cock. He made her come while Hux was still inside her, and then the two of them tossed each other off as she watched them. She likes that. She likes watching them touch each other, hands on bare skin, wrists and throats and hips and cocks. She likes watching them kiss, mouth to mouth, Hux's fingers tangled into Ren's long hair, Ren's hands raking Hux's hips. Hux can't say if he's sure if he likes it more because she likes it or just because Ren's mouth on his, on his overheated skin, on his flushed cock, is reward enough itself.

Soon, they'll have jobs to go to, or at least it's true that Hux will. Perhaps Rey will go with him, walking just out of step, getting in the way, making her presence known until he flips the switch in his office that turns all the long transparisteel walls opaque and bends her over the desk as if that's somehow a lesson to her and not exactly what she wants. Perhaps she'll go with Ren, to the training room or flying or to any of the other places that they know he knows they vanish to. But, for now, she kisses him, and she kisses Ren, and they don't consider leaving the bed just yet.

It's been four months now and he doesn't know if she has a plan or if she's using him, if she's using _them_ , so he's still on his guard. Perhaps she'll move against the First Order. Perhaps the Supreme Leader will do as she seems to believe and betray all their ideals. All Hux knows is that the status quo cannot be maintained forever. He's ready to act; he almost hopes it won't have to be against her.

But, whatever happens next, he will not be a spectator.


End file.
